Naming in the Speech
by Death Mountain
Summary: Juanita Callahan knows that something is wrong with her world. What does everyone around her know that she doesn't, and why does she have such an empty ache in her heart?


Title: Naming in the Speech

Chapter: Prologue

Series: Young Wizards

Rating: PG-13

Author: Death Mountain

Disclaimer: I don't own YW.

Juanita Callahan awoke as she usually did these days, feeling drained and listless, completely apathetic. Once, the sound of a bird chattering a "Good morning" song outside her window or the warmth of the sunlight spilling over her body, one these things would have been enough to bring her full into the day, awaiting life eagerly. But now nothing seemed to excite her; it was just another day—pointless and unimportant.

When her mother died she remembered feeling weighed down by numb grief, ready either to burst into tears or collapse on the spot. This was not the same. It was as though she was an empty shell, devoid of emotion or humanity. It wasn't depression, it was depletion. She didn't even have the sentiment to care that she seemed to have hit rock bottom.

There was no reason why she should be feeling—no, unfeeling—like this, she mused as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her job satisfied her, and her family was happy. Sure, she wasn't dating anyone—hadn't for a long time—as her sister had been pressing her to, but like most everything lately, a relationship seemed pointless. Besides, she was still living at home, like some poor indebted bachelor.

I wonder how Kit is doing, she thought, suddenly curious. Last she heard, the repair service he worked for had been bought by some bigger chain, so that was good. His sister Carmela was probably still studying abroad in Japan. Their father had a heart attack a few months back, but was apparently on the way to a full recovery. Juanita saw Kit's mama sometimes at the hospital or during fundraisers, and Mrs. Rodriguez looked as well as ever.

Maybe I should call him. Juanita considered the idea. Why not? Breakfast first, she reminded herself.

Even when she and her sister had been teenagers, a hot breakfast was rare. That had been their mother's area of expertise, cooking. Dairine couldn't toast a Pop-Tart without the probable risk of blowing the toaster up, and their father was either asleep or long gone by the time the girls were up.

Even I wouldn't mind a hot cinnamon roll every now and then. Maybe I should run by Starbucks on my way to work.

"Mornin', Dari," she greeted her sister, who was devouring bananas at warp speed while typing away at her weird little laptop computer. She had never actually said where she got it from, but that may have been just as well—Juanita did not want to be the one to hear that she'd stolen it. It was always coming home with some kind of upgrade or modification, whether it was relevant to the computer's overall proficiency. According to Dairine, she was beta testing for the technology department at college, but Juanita had a sneaking suspicion that her sister was adding a few features that the initial blueprints hadn't included.

"Save some for the rest of us, okay?" Juanita suggested, grabbing a banana. "And make sure the government doesn't knock on our door looking for the root of world hunger."

"Haha," Dairine muttered.

"Dad gone?"

"Yeah. I checked."

Juanita located her handbag and pulled out a notebook planner. "Do you have class today?"

"No, I got leave. Something came up?"

"Something came up?" Juanita grimaced and closed the planner. "Damn, I forgot this week was Irene's vacation. Since when are students allowed to skip class because 'something came up?'"

"Since the world ended," Dairine muttered. "I'm rendezvousing with Tom Swale and a few of the tech department guys. There's a problem with the new model. Something got screwed up in the hardware."

"Well, you go get those bugs, 'kay?"

Dairine swallowed a bite of banana. "Hey."

"Nn?" Juanita fished through her bag.

"You know what tomorrow is, right?"

Juanita paused, trying to remember the date. She had no idea what month or day it was, just that it was some time in the autumn. So what was . . .

Oh. Of course.

"Yes." Juanita stopped. "Yes, I know."

Her eyes turned to her sister, bent over the keyboard. Auburn hair spilled over Dairine's shoulders and framed a small, thin face that was starting to look disturbingly familiar. She was looking more like their mother every day, Juanita thought.

She tried and failed to feel sadness. Like nearly every other emotion, it remained beyond her grasp.

"D'you miss her?" Dairine asked.

"Of course I do." But as she said it, she wondered if it was true.

"Nita."

"My friends all think it's so funny that you all me that, you know." Without waiting for a reply, Juanita picked up her handbag and departed through the back door.

Autumn air washed over her, making her shiver in her state of underdress.

I wish she would just grow up, Juanita thought.

She probably even still believes in magic.

She was surprised to see Kit's car among those of parents waiting for their kids. He rolled the window down and beckoned to her. Juanita ushered a little girl to her mother and headed his way. He had pulled into a parking space and was opening the door.

Twenty-two-year-old Christopher Rodriguez had been friends with Juanita since they were kids. He had a distinctly Hispanic face and dark hair that looked as though it had been brushed in a hurry without regard to neatness. Kit had a knack for fixing things, especially mechanical things. His car, an old Edsel, used to be his father's.

"Neets, long time no see," he greeted her, using her childhood nickname.

"What're you doing here, Kit?" Juanita asked tiredly.

"Huh. Nice to see _you _too." He shrugged. "Tomorrow is . . .you know. So I was paying my respects to your mother and I thought I'd see how you were doing. Woah!" He sidestepped to avoid twin boys being pursued by their mother.

"Okay."

Perhaps he had been expecting a bit more of a reaction out of her, because he frowned. "Well?" he prompted.

"Well, what?"

Kit sighed. "Okay, Neets. I'm not looking for trumpets and fanfare here, but it would be nice to know that I was missed."

It sure would. If I only I knew myself. I really don't have time for this! "Don't be an idiot, Kit. You're my best friend."

"As far as I know. Have I been replaced yet?"

"Kit!" Very quickly she remembered how exasperated she always got with him. Not that she could blame him—she half-expected him to announce that he had been talking to, laughing with, gently teasing someone who wasn't her. "A few months isn't going to change things between us, is it?"

"You never know. How about you. Anyway? You seeing somebody?"

"Somebody called 'nobody.' Don't you start, too." She felt that she should get annoyed at him, but couldn't muster up the energy or the will for it.

Kit shrugged. "You're right. It's not that important."

"No, it's not." Juanita paused suddenly. "What about you?"

"Me? Oh, no, I'm just a swinging single." A grin spread across Kit's face, and for a brief second Juanita spied the teenage Kit lurking behind that smile. "Why? It's not important, right?"

"No reason," Juanita said quickly.

An SUV bumbled past them, spewing exhaust in its wake. "Hey," Kit said. "I'm staying with the family for the weekend. You wanna come for dinner one night?"

"Is that a date, mister?" Vaguely she realized just how long it had been since she and Kit exchanged friendly banter.

"If that's what you want to think," he said carefully.

Juanita knew that Kit did not lie, but he certainly was doing a good job of working around the truth! "I'll get back to you. I may be busy. Carmela and Helena coming around, too?"

"Helena may, but Carmela can't catch a plane on short notice." He reached out and took her hand. "I've missed you, Neets." He let her go and got in his car, pulling out of the parking lot and disappearing down the road.

"That's so sweet; he still calls you that," remarked a colleague who was loading gardening supplies into her truck. She was one of the women there who liked to get dirty and could often be found sprucing up the flowerbeds around the property. "He's really set on you, Juanita."

Juanita just shook her head. "He was like this when we were kids, too."

"Were? Still are!" Her colleague laughed. "Don't push yourself, dear."

"See you tomorrow." Juanita waved as the woman drove off.

A date? Are you joking me?

He is joking me. We've been friends for years; there's nothing wrong with going over to his house for dinner. Dad and Dair can function on their own for a night.

Kit was pushed to the back of her mind as she ran through a list of errands in her head. They needed more processed food and sawdust for the class pet, a brown lop-eared rabbit named Sir Boodles by one of the kids. The poor thing wasn't really much of a class pet, but Juanita didn't blame it at all whenever it retreated into the little domicile in its cage to escape the quick, grubby fingers trying to pet it or feed it or poke it. One of the volunteers said if the staff was as smart as Sir Boodles, they would all be hiding, too.

Construction paper, she thought. And a new lock for the gate. The other day one of the children figured out how to open the back gate when they were playing outside. He ran two blocks from the daycare center before a resident picked him up and returned him to his grateful caretakers.

She no longer remembered exactly why she had taken this job, and some days she still questioned her judgement. Maybe it was maternal instinct or some psychological thing—she grew up without a mother and didn't want these children to feel the way she did.

Don't be stupid, she chided herself. You were lonely, and you wanted to feel useful, like you were actually making a difference. Of course, what does one extra volunteer at daycare matter?

Employed or not, I'm pretty sure the universe will go on without my help.

"That's Crazy Swale's house," a red-faced girl with pigtails informed Kit soberly. "My mom says he doesn't have a real job, so he just makes trouble."

"What are you talking about? Mr. Swale is a writer. He writes commercials and stuff," her brother, a tall, gangly boy said. He turned to Kit. "Don't listen to her. Mr. Swale's dogs got out once, so I took them back and he said he'd pay me to walk them. I've seen the house when he lets me have a Coke, and it's normal."

"That's good," Kit said.

"You a friend of Mr. Swale's?" the boy asked curiously.

"Oh, yes. Besides, I'm the only guy he knows who can fix a broken toaster." Kit patted the kid on the back and walked to the door.

He rang the doorbell twice before someone got the door. It opened to show Tom just as Kit remembered him, if a little older and for a few more gray hairs. "Kit!" he observed. "Dai stiho! We haven't seen you in ages, cousin."

"No kidding." He had barely spoken when two blurred shapes rammed him full force, barking loudly and drooling on his jeans. He scratched the dogs behind the ears.

"Annie, Monty! Go _out! _Go!" Tom covered his ears and held the door open. "Out back, you two! Come on in, Kit."

The dogs jumping around him, Kit followed Tom into the kitchen where Carl Romeo was talking to something that resembled a tangle of blue vines draped over the projectiles of the ceiling fan. In Carl's hands was a book the size of a telephone directory. He glanced briefly at Kit but continued speaking.

"Kkkkrkkr here is from Epsilon IV. He's on holiday, and it seems he's budding a little early. He's afraid of being pollinated down here on Earth," Tom said, going to the fridge. "Soda?"

"Ah, a universal problem," Kit accepted the offered Coke.

"You know from experience, Kit?"

"Very funny. The last date I had excused herself when she caught me talking to a rock."

There was a loud squawk from the Epsilonian and a sound like a baby rattle shaking. Kkkkrkkr drew a hurried wizardry on the ceiling and disappeared with a pop as the atoms rushed excitedly to fill the empty space he had previously occupied.

When he was younger Kit would save time in transit by using the "beam-me-up-Scotty" spell, but later the pleasures of driving, of sailing leisurely down the road, put the spell out of use, except in emergencies.

"Hey, Kit!" Carl greeted, slamming his book shut. "Sorry for the wait. It's good to see you."

"Same here."

Tom plopped open a can for himself. "So Kit, what brings you here? Business or pleasure?"

"Pleasure. Just a visit." He leaned back in his chair. "I've really missed the old neighborhood. I need to check on the Jones Inlet later and see if there's anything I need to do."

"It's spreading smoothly, as far as I can tell. You looked at the papers? The fish are coming back." Tom glanced sideways at Kit. "Ten years will do that for a spell. So, you been to see Nita yet?"

Kit made a face. "Yes."

Tom grimaced." Uh oh. And?"

"I don't know if I pissed her off or something worse." Kit sighed. "I invited her to come over for dinner, but she'll probably decline. After all, tomorrow . . ."

Tom nodded. "The sorrow never leaves. We move on, though."

Kit nodded. "It's more than that, though. She's a completely different person. I mean, sure, aren't we all when we grow up, but . . .well, I never believed he would give up her wizardry. This is Nita we're talking about. I keep picking up my manual to call her and than I remember . . ." He sighed. "I miss her."

Carl shrugged. "We all do, Kit."

"Yeah, but it's not as though she's gone, and that's the worst part. It's knowing that she's there, but she'll never be the same. She doesn't remember things the way I do. To her, our wizardries were just kid's games, like Make Believe. She doesn't even remember how we met." He spoke a few words in the Speech to open his otherspace pocket, and withdrew his manual, which he lay flat and opened to the New York directory.

RODRIGUEZ, Christopher R.

Conlon Avenue

(516)

power rating: 5.8 /- .5

status: on hiatus

RODRIGUEZ, P.

Conlon Avenue

(516)

power rating: 6.7/- .3

"Working with Ponch is all fine and well," he continued. "But I don't think I'll ever get used to it."

"No one says you have to. Partnerships are optional, you know," Tom pointed out.

"Yeah." Kit closed the manual. "When it comes down to it, I opened myself up to the hurt. I made myself vulnerable, so now there's nothing I can do to escape it. I chose it."

"True." Tom nodded. "In the end, it's the choice you have to watch out for."

Well, tell me what you think.

If you're at all confused, all will be explained. There's a reason I'm using the name "Juanita" instead of "Nita".


End file.
